


Between the Devil and the Deep, Blue Sea

by Mossbeast



Category: One Piece
Genre: I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Short & Sweet, There's A Tag For That, Wow, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossbeast/pseuds/Mossbeast
Summary: Law isn't sure what to make of the Strawhat crew. They're loud, boisterous, uncouth drunks but at the same time more close-knit and caring than most families.One of them stands out in particular.He may or may not have green hair and the most ridiculous swordsmanship Law has encountered on his travels.He also has a beautiful, deadly smile and his name used to strike fear into the hearts of any and all pirates.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Between the Devil and the Deep, Blue Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted something short and sweet and I couldn't find anything that I haven't read three times over so. Here goes nothing.
> 
> On afterthought, I am severely sleep deprived and pretty drunk, you find any mistake you're very welcome to keep it.

The strawhat crew is incredibly loud up close.  
They drink and celebrate a lot, a good deal more than any other crew Law has ever encountered.  
They're extremely rough with one another, insults flying as freely as fists - or kicks, where Sanji is concerned - but at the same time they're more close-knit than any other crew Law has ever seen. Underneath that timid stranglehold of barely concealed violence and distaste for one another, beneath the jabs and rivalry, the annoyances and threats, they care deeply for each other.

It's fascinating, really.  
Sanji expresses his love through his cooking, even if he's a lot more forward where the ladies are concerned. Their reactions to his hopeless attempts at flirting are as different as their backgrounds and ideals; Nami abuses it shamelessly, Robin ignores him, Vivi taunts. Sanji is different around the male crewmembers: Luffy gets a weird air of nonchalance and Zoro is downright verbally abused by the blonde cook. But past that indifference and biting disgust, Sanji makes sure that there's enough food, proper nutrition for the black hole Luffy's stomach proves to be time and time again, an extra serving of protein after a grueling training session for Zoro, a sweet little pick me up snuck onto Usopp's plate here and there. Nothing too obvious, because for all their volume, brutal honesty and sheer bullheadedness, none of them actually talks about their feelings (not that Law could ever judge them for it) and none of them ever admits to feeling anything other than slight to moderate discomfort, even if they're carved up like Sanji's pot roast for serving.

Law finds himself entranced with the dynamic of the strawhat's interactions, but even with things ranging from Luffy's burning fervor and brutal honesty to Nami's plotting and scheming, a leftover from her past as a master thief who robs from pirates, he's assured with boisterous laughter and another tankard pressed firmly into his hands, one of them stands out. He burns differently, still has a long way to go if his single-minded determination to find the biggest, baddest cluster of foes and slice them up like cheese, is any indication.  
So what if he has green hair that shines and shimmers like patches of seaweed at the bottom of clear, shallow water? Something Law can only observe from afar, safely aboard the deck of a ship, because even the shallows weaken him enough that he has to be careful to not just collapse and drown. Avoiding death has a steep cost and for the first time in his life, he doubts his decisions. What if he hadn't eaten the Devil's Fruit? Could he be touching, tasting the tan skin and self-assured smirk? Could he study the expressive eyes up close? Law admires the way the setting sun catches the three golden studs and the chains dangling down from them, glinting and tempting, oh so tempting, to anyone and everyone who ever tasted the thrill of conquering forgotten treasures.  
So what if he has the most ridiculous swordsmanship ever invented? Law can't quite deny the tingle of something deep down in his core when he watches three blades whirling around, slicing the air in lieu of some unseen enemy time and time again. He's not sure he would want to at this point.  
Law is observant. He rarely misses the quiet moments Zoro allows himself, when he steps back from the ruckus with a drink in hand, back comfortably rested against a sturdy ship wall and swords safely in their scabbards. The thoughtful, deep gaze that wanders over the wild assortment of people that Luffy gathered on his ship, silently swearing to protect them time and time again, because where Luffy gathers people and gives them a purpose as the captain, Zoro as his second in command makes sure no one gets left behind. All those silent oaths and promises he makes with whatever deity he looks up to, he keeps them like a madman, regardless of how often he's been hurt or dismissed.  
Law likes to think that, perhaps, he could have been the same, a lifetime ago, but alas, he is merely the Surgeon of Death, more blood coating his knuckles than Zoro's fabled mad sword could ever guzzle.  
Regardless of how many lives he saves, the red won't ever come off. His hands are tainted. 

When the reality of his past becomes too oppressive, he remembers the feeling of strong, sword-calloused hands grasping his. A huff, a chuckle, _good fight, Torao_ , wind sweeping a hint of sweat, steel and salt over to Law. He remembers hugs to be warm and comforting, and dreams of a strong, heavily scarred chest. Arms with tightly corded muscles that move like a symphony, rippling like sin, calling to the depraved pits of his Lust wrap around him and cold, dead Law greedily takes, breathes in the fire that is the swordsman's very being, burning to right a wrong from a treasured past, a bad memory that has turned into a single, simple goal: _burn them_.

And that is where Zoro and he will never be the same.

Where Zoro still has kindness left in him, Law is hollowed out and nothing but a cold, dried out husk. No matter how much warmth and closeness he takes, he won't ever be whole again.  
But when Zoro smiles his beautiful, borderline manic smile, something desperately tries to spark in him. Something wants to explode and crawl through his veins, fill him with heat and pull him into his desires, feelings that Law had locked away because it is safer, because once he feels there is no stopping him. He will have what he wants and if the world has to burn in order for him to have it, he would see it all go.  
But that's not how Law is anymore. Or is it?

It's after a messy fight that everything changes. Law is seriously doubting his decisions to follow the trail of destruction, the explosive madness of the future _Pirate King_ , when someone dumps a bleeding, barely conscious Zoro in his OR.  
_What the hell?!_  
Zoro chuckles, a deep, throaty sound and there's a faint gargle of blood, just how on earth did the swordsman manage to get so damn banged up?  
  
Took a few risks?! Without Room, there'd be no saving this fool. Law gets angry, scared, desperate, feelings he's not supposed to feel anymore, since he's the Surgeon of Death - what does that even mean, his surgeries pry those doomed to die from death's icy clutches. He doesn't speak for death. He _steals from_ death. There's a vast difference, but perhaps to an outside onlooker he's an instrument of death who decides which victim gets to live. Law wouldn't know, he's not an onlooker.

He is greedy, though. He takes a little longer than strictly necessary, spends a few moments feeling _life_ course through Zoro's veins, ignores the sigh of relief and the boulder lifting from his chest.  
When the Strawhats come to pick him up, even Sanji expresses his worry.  
_You could have died, idiot!_  
Nothing could have prepared Law for the onslaught of _everything_ when madman Zoro, the infamous pirate hunter whose name strikes fear in the hearts of crews all over the world because he had so much room for growth and potential for becoming someone extraordinary, blushes at the admonishment from his least favorite crew mate. Law excuses himself, pleads some bullshit like exhaustion and sleep before he hastily exits the room and downright flees to his own quarters.  
Has he seen it wrong? Is there more between Sanji and his Zoro?  
Where did that come from. When has he claimed.. Well. When hasn't he claimed? When was the last time he went aboard the Strawhat's vessel and didn't immediately seek out a shade of green he will never be able to have and admire up close? There's a vast ocean of impossibilities between them and Law, curse his past decision making, is a Devil's Fruit user. He will never swim. He will drown before he even attempts to make his first move.  
But he doesn't remember when his focus wasn't on Roronoa Zoro. An odd, but beautiful name.  
Law can't possibly hear it roll of Zoro's tongue often enough. Sometimes, when his crew is asleep and they're far down at the bottom of the ocean, he tests how the name rolls off his own tongue.  
Sometimes, when his crew takes the day at the surface to swim and refresh themselves, Law disappeares in the deep, dark underbelly of his ship and pulls out the wanted posters from Zoro he collects, carefully brushing dust from the printed face that has lost its youthful naivete and roundness, and morphed into something drawn, all sharp angles, dark expression and every ounce the feared swordsman who will take on the world by his lonesome self and _win_ because Law will be there, Law will never break the unfailing trust Zoro has bestowed upon him by simply _not being there_ , he vows to patch him up even if he's dead for all intents and purposes because he has to at least _try_ to save his beautiful sorry ass that takes on entirely too much every damn time.  
But it's working. Zoro is getting stronger and he knows it, god how Law hates it that the bastard is _aware_ of his improvement. He hates the cocky smirk Zoro flashes before he takes on half the navy fleet on his own because he _knows_ he can. And no one ever stops him because Law is there to patch him right back up.  
And Law wouldn't dream of withdrawing that service because it would deprive him of new pictures, would stifle the growth of the swordsman, and Law can't have that. No one can have that.  
Even Sanji, who _doesn't like_ Zoro (oh but there's evidence to the contrary) can't have that. 

Somewhere in the depraved depths of his mind, an image materializes. He knows Zoro's body, inside and out, knows his face from observing, from the wanted posters, from his dreams, and he has seen the swordsman blush. And for a second, his breath catches in his throat, his heart rate elevates beyond the normal, for once there is warmth in his extremities because there is so much blood rushing through the vessels. Cheeks burning, he hides the posters away and disappears into his own room, locking the door and _not hiding_ from the world.  
And for the next months he wonders, what do others think when they see Zoro? How does Sanji react when Zoro stalks towards him? Does he feel like a cornered mouse? How does Vivi feel in the few and far in-between moments when Zoro decides to not just play the fool and contributes a solution to her problems? Nobody still truly believes Zoro is a numbskull, they let him play his part just as he let's them play theirs, they walk all over one another because there is no safer ground that the backs of your comrades. And they call each other out on it. And it's fine.  
They always, miraculously, end up fine. Doesn't matter how grave the betrayal, their love and Luffy's drive always mend the team back together. Stronger than before. 

But then again there's no way you drag yourself through hell several times and not get stronger from the trials. Law knows this truth, intimately.  
And so he squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and exits his cabin after nearly three months of _not hiding_. His crew doesn't mind, they've known him long enough to understand that sometimes, Law just needs space. As much space as you can get on a submarine, anyway. The Strawhats, on the other hand, don't quite understand. And so the first thing Law sees when he enters his mess hall is green. Vibrant, lush green, from the shallows of the ocean and the early spring forests on land. Zoro is quietly seated against the far wall, swords placed over his knees, and looks to be meditating, until a truly massive snore cuts through the silence and Law, who wanted to be angry, wanted to curse and spit and _send him away_ , Law laughs. Despite himself. Despite his anger, his madness, his _unrequited love_ , he laughs, a sound from deep in his belly, echoing through esophagus and larynx, shattering through the vocal chords before exiting his mouth. Zoro startles awake and Law can't imagine what he's seeing, because he hasn't ever been like this. His cheeks hurt and his lungs are hacking, is this what a psychotic break looks like? He wouldn't know, dammit. He's a _surgeon_ , not a shrink. He puts organs and muscles and soft tissue back together, not minds. God knows his mind needs some putting together, though. "Torao." He hates the nickname, hates the way it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy and wanted, accepted, loved even, hates the false promise of closeness because _his_ Zoro is actually _Luffy's_ master swordsman and from appearance also _Sanji's_. "Back from the dead?" He does what he does best, he puts on a brave face and buries all he feels under a mask of indifference with a sprinkle of sarcastic disdain. "Thought you might want to take a look at your handiwork", Zoro offers with a shrug and Law's finger _itch_ to tear the weird green suit from scarred, tan shoulders and run his hands over a torso that, for once, doesn't need mending. He wants to tear moans from his throat, not pained ones, and feel wetness cooling against his hands that isn't blood, for once. He wants to shackle him, keep him for his own, far away from any danger in this nigh invincible ship at the bottom of the sea, where only fish live and the navy will never go. "Don't you trust me to know my work, Zoro-ya?" With the grace of a feline, the swordsman is suddenly up and in Law's face, staring. Law is uncomfortable at the intensity of the gaze leveled at him, and at the same time revels in the feeling of being torn open. He wants to claw at his skin, tear himself apart for the green-haired menace, show him the depravity in his soul, his shattered mind that breaks a little more every time he defies Zoro's death. His breath stutters and he backs into the wall, fighting the urge to just grab Zoro at his ugly suit thing and yank him close, bite at those incredibly pink lips until they bleed and defile this man with every inch of himself. He claws at jealousy rearing its ugly head, forces it back down because Sanji at least is as pure and untainted as Zoro, they _deserve_ happiness and Law won't let himself get in the way of that. He _won't_. "It must have taken a lot out of you to heal me", Zoro says after a while. "You were gone for _months_." "Worried about little old me, Zoro-ya? I'm flattered. But you of all people should know that only challenge can make a person stronger." Zoro doesn't say anything for a while, just looks at Law with an expression he can't decipher for the life of him and so he just settles to watch his face. There's a hint of freckles, barely discernible against the tan skin, on his nose and the high cheek bones. Law never noticed, but then again he's never been this close without having to worry about blood loss and rearranging internal organs. He's touched Zoro's heart more often than he's actually taken the time of day to look at his face. He studies the black eye that flits over him, nervously. It's a bit weird up close, dark and serious and sort of blank. Gone is the fire with which Zoro normally burns. Or at least it's been dialed down so much that it doesn't reach his eye. Law hates it. Hates the sorrow and fear this indicates, the pain Zoro must have gone through. He studies the pink scar that robbed Zoro of his second eye. Wonders for a brief moment about the pain, did Zoro faint? Perhaps one day he can replace it. 

"We all worried, Torao. Friends don't disappear when they need help." A strong hand slams against the wall. Law has half a mind to check for damage when suddenly, a pair of lips press against his, dry and slightly chapped and warm.

A moan echoes through the otherwise empty room and Law raises his hands to touch Zoro, caresses his arms and feels the tight muscles the swordsman doesn't really hide. Zoro presses closer, Law can feel his body heat seep into him, taking over for Zoro to get Law pliant and soft. Perhaps it's not so bad to be helpless in the face of the overwhelming masses of water that surround him. Perhaps he can reach the patch of seaweeds if they grow close enough to the surface. 

He doesn't remember much of that night, other than a hint sake on hot breath, clever lips relentlessly attacking his own and an overwhelming feeling of drowning, pressure equally applied from all sides and no hopes of escaping, ever. And despite fearing death by ocean, this sort of drowning isn't too bad. Perhaps drowning is nowhere near the struggle and the panic and pain once you make your peace with the inevitable and instead enjoy the prickling, near ecstatic sensation of oxygen deprivation and endorphins.

Maybe he thinks back to fire rushing through his veins when he wakes up hard every morning and takes care of it in the shower. Maybe he remembers soft, silky skin wrapped tightly around him. Maybe he imagines the pull and push of a strong body. Maybe he comes with a gasp on his lips, trembling apart, water rushing over his face and leaving desperate to breathe without sucking his lungs full of water that doesnt belong there.

As long as he doesn't admit it to anyone, it's not real. And Trafalgar D. Water Law has never made a habit of talking to anyone about anything. That notion died with Corazon, and just like him it won't ever return.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 🖤  
> And, like any author, kudos and comments make my day! Well, night. Whatever.  
> Whichever. 
> 
> My prolonged awake-phase.
> 
> Goodnight!


End file.
